


Just Like

by romanticalgirl



Category: British Actor RPF, Hornblower RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 11-26-06</p>
    </blockquote>





	Just Like

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 11-26-06

Matthew remembers the moment everything changed. It was his own fault, his own movements that bent them from best friends to this, and he’s not even sure what this is. He knows it was selfish – he was selfish – but he was willing to take a chance for what he wanted and he doesn’t think Ioan blames him, though he supposes he could be wrong.

He’s wrong sometimes, but rarely about Ioan.

It’s something in his eyes though, on the couch, watching the telly, both of them tucked under blankets that have seen better days, ratty and worn and if their mums could see them, they’d chuck ‘em in the rubbish bin and go out and buy something new, something all done up on a nice wool or something fuzzy that would make Ioan sneeze.

Ioan’s eyes are dark and light, depending on his mood, and right now they’re dark and not quite meeting Matthew’s. Last night had been curry and beer and rugby and ended up with Ioan betting on Ireland and Jamie betting on Wales and Matthew moderating the money that changed hands, and then the hands changing money. Soon enough cold hard cash was passed over for warm, smooth flesh and long, slow kisses that lasted far too long for breathing.

Matthew woke up on Jamie’s chest, his eyes hazy as he gazed down at Ioan’s head, pillowed on Jamie’s thigh. Someone had glanced at the time and someone else had shouted ‘fuck’ and the day began as if the night before hadn’t happened.

“What d’you think, mate?”

Matthew glances up from the TV he isn’t seeing and looks over at Ioan. “What’d you mean?”

Ioan nods toward the TV. “The match.”

“Oh. Um…20 quid on…um…”

“You’re not even paying attention.” Ioan scoffs like Matthew’s committed some sort of crime. “You’re just going to bet out your arse and I think it’s a terribly sound strategy. Works well for me.”

“Sorry. Thinking.”

Ioan shifts on the couch, and suddenly it’s like the telly fades to nothing and Matthew can’t see anything beyond the warm brown of Ioan’s eyes. “About last night?”

“Yeah.” He grins a little, embarrassed and reveling a bit in the memory. “Never…”

“Yeah.” Ioan laughs and nudges Matthew’s thigh with his toes, the blanket rubbing against Matthew’s leg. “Think it was a first for all of us. Not bad though, no?” Ioan runs one of his ridiculously long fingers over his bottom lip as if feeling the pressure from the night before. “You liked it?”

“Snogging Jamie?” He grins wider, turning as well, bending one leg so it rests on the sofa, his shin against Ioan’s feet. He watches Ioan carefully, watches those eyes. “Yeah.”

“Wasn’t so much talking about Jamie.” Ioan rubs his toes along Matthew’s leg again. “We weren’t so bad, you and I, were we?”

“No.” His grin shrinks, not quite a smile, but still something softer. Ioan, for all his lean muscle and sharp bone, is softer than Jamie, softer than Matthew in some respects, though Matthew and Jamie both have that layer of baby fat about them. “You want this, you think then?”

Ioan purses his lips together and shrugs, barely perceptible from beneath the blanket. “D’you?”

“Not fair, turning it ‘round, you know.” Matthew shakes his head and then reaches out, cupping his hand along the back of Ioan’s neck, feeling the dark tangle of curls against his thumb as he pulls Ioan closer. “We’re best friends.”

“We are.”

Matthew swallows hard, licking his lips. “Don’t want to fuck that up.”

“No.” Ioan shakes his head, but carefully enough not to dislodge Matthew’s grip. “Don’t. Most important thing.”

“So what do we do?”

Ioan shrugs and smiles and leans in, closing the remaining distance between them. “Kiss me.”

Matthew’s lips move over Ioan’s, gentle and careful until Ioan bites Matthew’s lower lip. He’s not sure if he gasps or laughs or what, but then Ioan’s on his back on the couch and Matthew’s on top of him, and it’s natural and easy and an awful lot like being friends and, Matthew suspects, a dangerous bit like falling in love.

**

They don’t shag each other for the first months of this whatever it is that they’re building. Jamie shags Matthew and Jamie shags Ioan and Matthew and Ioan sort of float along on this vast array of kisses and touches that hint at something more, though they’ve never made it past that, too scared at the fragile hold they’ve got on each other and themselves. Jamie never pushes, but Matthew can feel it, when they’re all lying on Ioan’s bed, tangled up in limbs and breath and boxer briefs, stroking and touching and pretending they’ve got a sodding clue what it is that they’re doing.

Jamie starts it all, which is really how it should be, given that he’s what started the whole thing. He slides out of bed and moves into the bathroom and there’s warm space between them and Matthew and Ioan sort of fall into one another to fill it. The kisses are slow and lazy and easy, but then there are hands and fingers and desperation and desire and Ioan’s boxers make their way to the end of the bed, and Matthew finds his way out of his and then there is flesh against flesh and it’s warm and good and then wet and hot and then it’s done and it was easier than anything’s ever been.

Jamie slides in behind Matthew then and kisses the curve of his shoulder, whispering words like ‘us’ and ‘ours’ and ‘mine’ and then he leans in and kisses Ioan across Matthew’s shoulder and Matthew’s watching and he realizes the words are right, all of them. This is them, this is the way it is, and he smiles and leans into the kiss as well.

**

Things change and shift – Ioan moves to Hollywood, Matthew shifts between London and LA, Jamie moves to Vancouver – some days it’s Matthew and Jamie and some days it’s Jamie and Ioan and some days it’s Matthew and Ioan. When he makes the move permanent, coming out to LA for good, it changes the dynamic again, and he laughs sometimes because they’re lovers and best friends and rivals and everything else, and if he thought this shit was hard with two, with three – and three actors, so the egos are _painfully_ fragile – makes it like juggling nitroglycerine.

But it hasn’t exploded yet, and it’s been several years, and they’re happy together and apart and all the ways in between. He sits on Ioan’s couch, playing his X-box, which Ioan’s taken to keeping at his house to persuade Matthew to come over – as if he needs a reason – and Jamie and Ioan are bitching at each other in the kitchen, Ioan pretending he knows fuck all about cooking if it doesn’t require a microwave or come out of a prepared box.

He imagines it’s sort of what brothers are like, and then nothing at all like that and he turns off his game, grabs his beer and heads into the other room. Ioan’s on the counter laughing, and Jamie’s between his legs leaning and it’s a scene Matthew never tires of. He leans against the doorframe and watches, arms crossed over his chest, until Ioan glances his way out of the corner of his eye.

There’s invitation and emotion in the simple glance and Matthew smiles and shakes his head. If he goes over there, he’ll never get dinner, and he’s starving. Man cannot live on love alone, but if Ioan and Jamie are any indication, he’s likely not to get dinner any time soon anyway, so he pushes off the door and moves over to them.

Ioan slides off the counter and suddenly Matthew’s being pushed back to the bedroom and they’re all laughing and tumbling and touching and Matthew closes his eyes – not too long, he doesn’t want to miss a moment – but he was right so long ago when it changed.

A perfect madness, the three of them. And as inevitable as falling in love.  



End file.
